Ambush
by elbcw
Summary: 'There was no time to warn the marksman, the new opponent lifted the axe he was carrying into the air and brought it down on the unaware musketeers back. Aramis crashed to the ground.' The four are captured by bandits, Aramis is injured and d'Artagnan is getting some unwelcome attention. They have their work cut out as they try to escape.
1. Chapter 1

Ambush

Chapter One

Although the ambush had taken them by surprise Porthos did not expect them to have any issues dealing with the four men. They were not the best fighters and after glancing around he was aware that d'Artagnan was easily beating his opponent, a scrawny tatty man. Athos' opponent was trying a little harder, but as usual, Porthos got the impression his friend was toying with the man.

His opponent had tried some enthusiastic moves, he was a sprightly middle ages man who moved quickly but had not been able to get passed Porthos' well-trained defensive moves. All Porthos needed was an opening and he would finish the man off with ease.

Aramis was skilfully dealing with his young opponent. The pale lad was probably not even twenty. Like Porthos, Aramis was waiting for the lad to make a mistake that he could take advantage of.

The man in front of Porthos made his mistake, a quick thrust with his main gauche left the man clutching at his chest as he crumpled to the floor. Almost simultaneously d'Artagnan finished off his opponent. As d'Artagnan turned to see which of his comrades needed help, his face took on a look of shock. Porthos turned in the direction he was staring just in time to see a fifth man approach Aramis from behind.

There was no time to warn the marksman, the new opponent lifted the axe he was carrying in to the air and brought it down on the unaware musketeers back. Aramis crashed to the ground. The young lad and the new man both kicked Aramis to the side several times.

A shot rang out, startling Porthos who had become frozen staring at the horrific image of the axe hitting his friend. The axe man fell to the floor, a bullet wound in his head.

The pale young man stared at them for a second before running off as fast as he could, disappearing into the woods.

MMMM

Athos had defeated his opponent a few seconds after d'Artagnan had fired his gun. He looked over at d'Artagnan who was moving forward tugging at Porthos who had stopped and was staring ahead.

Aramis lay, face down a few meters from them. Athos rushed forward and knelt by the unconscious man. D'Artagnan was by his side, resting his hand on Aramis' back, he paused, looked at Athos, then turned to Porthos.

'He's not dead. There's no injury…'

Athos looked at d'Artagnan with confusion etched on his face as Porthos walked over and crouched down.

'He was struck with an axe, how is there no injury?' asked an incredulous Porthos.

'It must have been the blunt side, the axe isn't double bladed,' replied d'Artagnan looking over to Porthos, then nodding toward the weapon which lay a few inches from the dead hand of the man who had wielded it.

'He could still be badly injured. If the blow was hard enough it could have broken his back…and you know what that would mean.'

D'Artagnan looked at Athos, the question clear, on his face.

'I've seen it before, after a horse accident a man broke his back, it was like he was in some sort of waking death. He couldn't move his arms or legs. There was nothing the doctors could do. He died…I think his friends may have…helped him to die,' Athos told d'Artagnan shuddering at the recollection.

'He ain't dead yet,' said Porthos defiantly, 'help me get his jacket off, let's see what the damage is.'

They carefully divested Aramis of his doublet, being as gentle as they could. Porthos slowly pushed the unconscious man's shirt up over his back. The bruising across his back was already dark, with equally nasty looking marks on his side where he had been kicked. Athos felt along his friend's ribs.

'I think two are broken,' he said grimly, 'all we can do is bind the ribs as best we can…and wait.'

MMMM

As d'Artagnan busied himself searching the bodies of the four dead bandits he kept an eye on Porthos and Athos who were gently binding Aramis' ribs. They had turned him and sat him up, there was no sign of Aramis coming around.

'I can't find anything on the bodies, there isn't even any money. I doubt they were important members of the gang,' he said as he walked back over to his friends who had laid Aramis down again, slightly on his side.

'I do not want to stay here any longer than we have to,' said Athos ignoring Porthos' glare, 'the one that ran off, he could come back with reinforcements.'

D'Artagnan could understand the reason for Athos wanting to move quickly and he could see the issue Porthos had. Athos wanted to avoid another confrontation now that they were a man down and Porthos did not want to risk moving Aramis until he was at least conscious and they knew how badly injured he was.

As if on cue Aramis moaned and opened his eyes. He tried to sit up and gasped in pain.

'Careful,' said Porthos as he helped the marksman to sit, 'at least we know your back isn't broken.'

Aramis looked at him, shocked.

'You were hit on the back with an axe, the blunt side, you went down hard…' Athos trailed off.

'Like that man who fell from his horse?' asked Aramis understanding.

Athos nodded. Aramis smiled and to placate any lasting fears in his friends he made an effort to move all his limbs. Satisfied that his friend was going to be OK, Athos rose and looked at Porthos pointedly.

'Athos wants us to leave as soon as possible, will you need to ride with one of us?'

Aramis thought for a moment before saying, 'help me up.'

D'Artagnan stepped forward and offered his arm, Aramis grabbed it and slowly, with Porthos' help, eased himself up. The effort had drained the musketeer of any colour in his face and left him panting. He clutched at his broken ribs.

'Short answer is, yes, I doubt I can ride alone.'

'You can ride with me,' suggested d'Artagnan.

Porthos nodded his approval.

MMMM

Athos was keen to leave. He knew it would be uncomfortable for the injured marksman, but there was a high chance more bandits would arrive. They had been breaking camp when the attack occurred. The four men that ran at them were undisciplined and had the fifth not arrived they would have defeated them with ease. But, one man had escaped and that meant they were still in danger. The bandits in this area had become increasingly organised, Treville had despatched several groups of Musketeers to scout out the area in an attempt to find their base of operations. It appeared several smaller groups had banded together and were working the area as one large gang.

A few minutes later and they would have been on their way, but they were not to be that lucky. Several men approached them, guns aimed at each musketeer. There was no chance of fighting back this time.

'Which one?' a tall, sturdy man asked a young lad. The tall man, unlike the other bandits was dressed well, his clothes were not tatty. He bore similarities to the axe man who lay dead a few meters from where Athos stood.

The lad pointed at d'Artagnan who was stood by his horse. The tall man strode with purpose towards the young musketeer. Without warning he punched d'Artagnan hard to the face causing him to stagger back and lean against the waiting horse. The man stepped forward and pushed the end of his gun under d'Artagnan's chin forcing his head up. The musketeer had his hands out in submission. As well as shocked, he looked confused.

'You killed my brother,' said the tall man, 'I'm going to kill you.'

Porthos, already enraged, took a couple of steps forward. One of the other bandits grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him down to his knees. The tall man looked over at him, then at Athos, and finally at Aramis, who was sat on the ground near the body of the man's brother.

The man nodded towards Aramis, another of the men walked over to him and pushed him roughly over. Aramis could not help a small cry of pain, the man put his booted foot on Aramis side. The already pale musketeer screwed his eyes up in pain his breathing fast and shallow.

'Be still or you will all die, right now,' said the tall man firmly. He removed the gun from under d'Artagnan's chin and stepped over to Porthos who was glaring at the man.

'My father, will want to be there when I take my revenge. Since my father isn't here, we'll be going to him, but I don't need all of you…would you rather die now?'

The gun was pushed into Porthos' face, he tried his best not to flinch away. He continued to stare at the man.

'I thought not,' he said before turning to the other men, 'bind their wrists, tie them to the back of the cart, we leave as soon as the bodies have been collected.'

MMMM

There were seven bandits. The leader clearly had a good command of his men. They worked well together, they were more coordinated than the first group to attack the musketeers. The young lad was the one that had run away. He had clearly reported to the leader, who had known Aramis was injured and now knew that d'Artagnan was responsible for killing the axeman.

The other five were strong looking young men, this implied to Porthos that the gang were prospering. The coming together of smaller groups of bandits meant that a hierarchy had formed. Not unlike the Court of Miracles. Most groups of people eventually formed into leaders and followers. It was unfortunate that d'Artagnan had killed the son of what Porthos suspected was the gang's overall leader. D'Artagnan was in grave danger.

If Aramis was not injured they would probably have been able to escape, but he was in no shape to move quickly. He had not moved from the spot he had ended up in after being pushed over earlier. As he and Athos were having their wrists bound and the rope tied to the back of a cart, Porthos watched as two gang members advanced on the prone man.

They hauled him up with no regard for his injuries, he tried to stifle a cry. The men laughed, Porthos took a step towards them only to find Athos' bound hands on his shoulder stopping him as he quietly said.

'They want us alive for now, do not keep drawing attention to yourself.'

Porthos huffed in response as he watched the men with Aramis roughly tie his hands together and drag him toward the cart. The marksman stumbled the last few steps and Porthos had to grab him as best he could, to prevent him crashing to the ground. Aramis was breathing as hard as his injured ribs would allow. He was ashen and looked on the verge of passing out. It took Porthos a couple of minutes to steady his friend, who was hanging on to him for support.

He glanced over at d'Artagnan who was looking warily at one of the other gang members who was positively leering at the young musketeer. D'Artagnan did not look comfortable as he was being scrutinised. Another man was binding his wrists, then he too was brought over to the cart and tied to it.

The bodies of the dead men had been loaded onto the cart. The musketeer's weapons and saddle bags were piled on top. Their horses were being brought up alongside the cart.

The leader stepped forward. He peered at the weapons, poked about at a couple of them then pulled Aramis' guns out of their belt. He weighed them up, nodded approvingly then slipped them into his own weapon belt, discarding the guns he already had. He next appraised the horses, settling on Porthos', he mounted and turned to look at his captives.

'We have a long walk ahead of us, if you behave you will be allowed to eat and drink and rest. If you cause us issues you will not be allowed the luxuries. Do you understand?'

None of them said anything. The man signalled the driver of the cart and the horse was encouraged to walk forward. The four musketeers were jerked forward by the motion. Porthos managed to grab Aramis' arm before he fell to the floor. Once steady he was able to walk on his own, but Porthos could tell he was in a lot of pain. The man who had been staring at d'Artagnan was walking a few meters from the young musketeer. Porthos nodded imperceptibly to Athos and indicated the man. Athos nodded.

They had their work cut out, if they were to keep an eye on each other.

MMMM

D'Artagnan did not like the attention he was getting from the gang member. The slight man had gradually moved closer to him and even brushed his arm with his hand at one point. D'Artagnan had moved over as far as he could, Athos giving him a bit of space by moving forward. He knew Athos and Porthos were aware of the unwanted attention he was receiving.

The leering man seemed to grow board and moved off a little, d'Artagnan sighed with relief he turned to Athos who was watching him.

'Just keep away from him as much as you can. I doubt he will get the opportunity to try anything, you are…too valuable…to their leader.'

D'Artagnan managed a smile, 'aren't I the popular one. Although I'd rather not be…how are we getting out of this?'

'I am trying to come up with a plan and am open to suggestions,' replied Athos.

D'Artagnan fell silent as he thought. They were surrounded by seven men. Under normal circumstances, the four of them could easily take out seven men. But they were effectively only three at the moments, Aramis looked awful and on the verge of collapse. They were without their weapons and they were restrained. He thought, wryly, that he might be able to persuade the leader to let the other go as he was the one that had upset the man so much by killing his brother. But d'Artagnan knew his friend would not allow him to sacrifice himself for their sakes.

They had been walking for about an hour, Aramis was stumbling more and more. He was very pale and clearly about to pass out. The leader of the gang was watching him carefully, d'Artagnan got the impression he was amused by the injured man.

D'Artagnan was not surprised when Aramis did collapse to the floor in a heap.

MMMM


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

'Get him up,' yelled the leader, 'Stephane, get him on his feet.'

The man the leader yelled at stepped forward and tried to haul Aramis up. Aramis was trying to stand but the sudden movement of his arms being pulled made him yelp in pain and collapse back down.

Porthos pushed Stephane off saying, 'he's got broken ribs, give him a chance.'

Porthos was trying to help Aramis up, the marksman was gasping for breath his eyes screwed shut. Stephane had stepped back and looked at the leader who dismounted and approached them, he pushed his man out of the way then reached down and grabbed Porthos by the front of his doublet, dragging him up. Aramis fell back to the floor between them, he tried to move out of the way.

'Stephane,' said the leader without taking his eyes of Porthos, 'what do I do to insubordinate men?'

Stephane quickly replied, 'you shoot them, Domont, you shoot them in the legs and leave them to die.'

Porthos tried to keep a defiant expression towards Domont, but he was not sure if he was doing it very well. Domont held him for a few seconds before roughly pushing him away, Porthos staggered back.

Domont pointed at Aramis, 'get him up, now, or I will shoot him, then you.'

Porthos stepped forward again and helped the panting Aramis up. His friend swayed a few times and blinked to clear his head. He nodded at Porthos who let him go but remained within touching distance.

Domont, satisfied that the injured man was ready to move again, nodded to the driver who again moved the cart on. Porthos reached out to steady Aramis as he was jerked forward. Fortunately, the marksman managed to keep his footing.

They were forced on for another hour before stopping to rest. The young lad gave each musketeer a hunk of bread and a bucket of water with a cup was put between them. They sat in the limited shade of the cart, silently eating the bread. Porthos made Aramis drink a cup full of water before he took any himself. Porthos watched as the horses were unsaddled, he turned to Aramis.

'It looks like we will be here for a little while, you should try to sleep,' he said.

The marksman nodded and leaned back against the wheel of the cart, he did not look particularly comfortable but did appear to fall asleep. The fact that he had willingly done as he was told worried Porthos. Aramis was usually very stubborn, generally he would hide any injuries he had, much to the annoyance of the others. Porthos wondered how badly injured the marksman was.

MMMM

Athos was having a hard time trying to work out a way out of their predicament. Aramis was injured and d'Artagnan was under threat, not only form Domont but also from the leering gang member who they now knew was called, Fabien. The man had sat himself a few meters away and did not hide his interest in the young musketeer who clearly disliked the attention.

Porthos had moved, ducking under the rope that bound Athos to the cart to sit the other side of d'Artagnan putting himself between Fabien and d'Artagnan. Athos nodded his approval and d'Artagnan said a quiet thank you. Fabien, wandered off.

Aramis was sleeping, leaning against the wheel of the cart. He was ashen and breathing shallowly. When he had collapsed earlier Athos had wondered if the marksman would be able to get up. Porthos had nearly got them both killed by interfering.

Their best chance for escape would be at night. They would have to be vigilant and take their chance when it came. Domont had indicated that they would be walking for several days, Athos would allow them to spend at least one night as captives so that they could study the rituals of the men. With luck, they could make their move on the second night. He hoped Aramis would last that long, that Porthos would not get himself hurt or killed in that time and that they could keep d'Artagnan away from both Domont and Fabien.

MMMM

D'Artagnan had been grateful when Porthos had deliberately and very obviously sat himself in between Fabien and himself. The creepy gang member had been looking at him again. He knew that some men had relationships with each other, but the idea did not appeal to him and he was quite disgusted by Fabien's obvious intentions.

He thought again about how they might escape. They would need a distraction. A rather abhorrent thought occurred to him. He turned to Athos, unable to hide his trepidation as he spoke.

'We might need a distraction when we escape…should I…should I…' he found himself unable to finish the sentence he glanced over at Fabien who was again leering at the young musketeer over a cup of wine. Fabien noticed d'Artagnan looking at him and raised the cup in a small salute, a creepy smile playing over his lips.

'Absolutely not.'

'No, you won't.'

Athos and Porthos responded at the same time. D'Artagnan did not bother to hide his relief. He had not really expected the others to think his idea was worth trying. But was grateful for the firm response in the negative.

'Saddle the horses, we move on. I want to get three more hours in before we camp,' Domont called from across the camp.

MMMM

It took Porthos a few minutes to get Aramis fully awake and on his feet. Domont had been visibly impatient. As soon as Aramis was on his feet they were moving forward. It was clear to Athos that Aramis was now in a much worse condition. He was stumbling with nearly every step and had not spoken since being woken up by Porthos.

Porthos was holding the injured man's arm. This meant that Porthos was walking at an awkward angle due to his wrists being bound. But if it kept Aramis upright then Athos would not stop his friend from helping.

Fabien was again, walking beside d'Artagnan who had taken to scowling at the creepy man. Athos was not sure if Fabien understood what d'Artagnan was trying to convey. He moved over and walked closer to d'Artagnan. Fabien gave Athos an annoyed look then walked around to the other side of the captives.

D'Artagnan looked at Athos, 'surely it's obvious that I'm not interested in him. Why won't he leave me alone? It's not like anything could happen, Domont intends to kill me anyway.'

'I don't think his intentions are what you think they are,' said Athos, d'Artagnan paled a little.

Their attention was drawn to Aramis who was stumbling with every step now. He fell to the floor again, being dragged a couple of meters, whimpering in pain. Porthos was trying to pull him up, by grabbing him around the waist, but the movement of the cart and his restrained wrists prevented him from getting a good enough grip.

The cart was stopped. Domont dismounted and prodded Aramis with his boot. Aramis cried out in pain as his already abused ribs were knocked. Domont looked over at Fabien and Stephane. He nodded to them. Fabien walked forward pulling a knife from his belt as he did so.

Three of the other men stepped forward and aimed their guns at Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan. The three were forced to watch as Fabien cut the rope that had secured Aramis to the cart, he was roughly turned over and the barely conscious musketeer was dragged away. Porthos took a step forward but the man covering him with his gun shook his head. Athos reached over and slowly pulled Porthos back in line. They could not help Aramis now.

They watched as their friend was dragged into the woods. He did not try to fight back, although he was conscious enough to look at his friends as he disappeared from their sight, Athos thought he looked more concerned than frightened at the turn of events. But his overall countenance was one of pain.

MMMM

Porthos wanted to tear the men apart. If Athos had not pulled him back in line he probably would have ripped his ropes free and throttled whichever gang member was closest.

When Fabien and Stephane returned, alone, a few minutes later he could not contain himself. He pulled at his restraints.

'What have you done with him?' he demanded, Athos was trying to pull him back but he did not care.

'Tell me what you have done?' he asked again, not trying to contain the anger.

Fabien answered, stepping forward, not close enough to be reached, he was careful to keep out of the way.

'We left him out there in the woods. He's dying. He was pretty much dead when we left him. A couple more swift kicks to the ribs and he became very still. Might even have coughed up a bit of blood…guess the night creatures will be well fed tonight.'

Porthos howled in rage at Fabien's little speech. The creepy man winked at d'Artagnan then scooted off out of the way of the apoplectic Porthos.

MMMM

D'Artagnan grabbed Porthos and forcefully pulled the angry man around to face him and Athos.

'Calm down,' he said firmly. Porthos was so enraged he did not seem able to listen. Athos grabbed his shoulder, 'you'll get us all killed. Aramis wouldn't want that. And he might still be alive. Once we escape we'll find him,' he finished quietly.

Porthos was breathing hard, huffing with the effort to contain his anger. He focused on his two friends and nodded calming significantly.

'For a condemned man you are very calm,' said Domont from behind the threesome, 'I'll give you a few minutes. It's clear that losing your injured friend has been upsetting.'

Domont walked off, smirking as he did so. As he passed Fabien he nodded and slapped the man on the back. Fabien's actions were clearly enjoyed by the leader.

D'Artagnan forced Porthos to sit down. He and Athos followed, huddled together, speaking quietly.

'If he is alive, we need to get away as soon as possible,' said d'Artagnan.

'Agreed,' said Athos, 'I think it will have to be tonight. They are likely to be less vigilant then.'

Porthos just nodded, he was looking off into the middle distance, clearly unable to comprehend what had just happened.

MMMM

Their journey was soon started again. It was noticeable that the cart was moving a little faster now. They had not realised the driver had been compensating so much for Aramis' stumbling walk. The increased pace left them exhausted when they finally stopped.

None of them had said anything for the few hours they were pulled along. Each lost in his own thoughts. Porthos had continued to look shocked and more than once had looked round as if expecting to see Aramis appear from the woods beside them.

Fabien had twice more made advances towards d'Artagnan who was not making any effort to hide his disgust at the creepy man. Athos kept close to d'Artagnan.

When they stopped, it was welcome. They all sank down to their knees panting. They had not been given any more water up to that point. They accepted the bread and water from the young bandit almost gratefully. They ate in silence.

Athos leaned over and spoke quietly to Porthos.

'We need to keep an eye on Fabien. He is clearly keen to do…something, we should take it in turns to watch tonight.'

Athos hoped that the task would solve two problems, Porthos' increasingly maudlin behaviour needed to be stopped and d'Artagnan needed to be watched over as he was getting far too much attention from the gang member. He also wanted to exploit any moment that gave them a chance to escape.

Porthos took a deep breath and sighed, he looked at Athos, 'sorry, I was caught up in the moment, I shouldn't have reacted like that, but when they took him off…I.'

'Don't apologise,' said Athos with a sad smile.

MMMM

Porthos was awoken by shouting from across the camp, both Athos and d'Artagnan had stood and were peering around the side of the cart. Porthos hauled himself up and joined them.

'What's happening?' he asked looking in the same direction as his friends.

'The young one's upset Domont. I think he's lost something,' replied d'Artagnan.

As they watched, Domont slapped the young bandit hard enough to make the young man fall to the floor. He stood over the lad and continued to shout at him.

'I should never have trusted you, you're not good for anything…'

He turned away from the young man, who was trying to scramble up. Domont drew out one of the guns he had taken from Aramis' weapon belt the previous day and calmly shot the young man in the head.

'Let that be a lesson to you all,' he said turning in a slow circle with the now spent gun levelled at the other gang members. He tossed the gun to one of the men saying, 'reload that.'

The men broke away and carried on with their tasks. Porthos had not noticed Fabien walk around the cart and come up behind him. He turned and bumped the man who stumbled back and fell to the floor with a cry of annoyance.

'What now?' asked Domont as he strode over.

'That one attacked me,' said Fabien as he rose.

Athos stepped forward before Porthos could reply, 'no he did not, it was an accident and you know it.'

Domont moved forward quickly and grabbed Athos by the shoulder, then punched him in the stomach. Athos doubled over, the air knocked out of him. D'Artagnan grabbed his friend to stop him falling to his knees.

'I've had enough. My father doesn't need to see that one killed. We'll do it now.'

MMMM

Before any of them had a chance to react d'Artagnan found himself grabbed by Fabien and one of the other bandits, he was held firmly by Fabien, whilst the other one cut the rope from his hands. He was dragged a few feet away from the cart and forced to kneel.

He was aware of Porthos protesting loudly and Athos pulling at his restraints. Fabien pushed d'Artagnan forward at the waist, holding his wrists behind him keeping him still.

Domont approached, he was swinging the axe his brother had used to attack Aramis with. D'Artagnan found himself unable to react, he could not think, everything felt blurry and slow.

The others were shouting, begging, the man not to hurt him.

The axe appeared briefly in his vision, then disappeared as Domont raised it above d'Artagnan's head.

MMMM


	3. Chapter 3

Authors note: Thanks for all the review.

I'm going to leave the axe hovering over d'Artagnan for now, sorry…

Chapter Three

The previous day…

Aramis opened his eyes, he tried to sit up, but pain shot through him. His back and his ribs were sore. He took a gasping breath. Porthos was there, helping him to sit up. He said something about his back not being broken.

'You were hit on the back with an axe, the blunt side, you went down hard…' Athos had trailed off, Aramis realised what he meant.

'Like that man who fell from his horse?' asked Aramis, remembering the tale his friend had told him a while ago. He could understand the concern on his friends faces. He moved his feet and arms to prove he was mobile.

Athos wanted to leave quickly and Aramis could understand why, he also knew it would not be a good idea to underplay his injuries. Athos had already given him a pointed look when Porthos had asked if he would be able to ride alone. Once on his feet he thought he would probably be able to but it would not amuse his friends if he were to fall on their journey. He acquiesced and said he would need to ride with someone.

After they had gently lowered him back to the ground he had been forced to sit idly by as the others broke camp. When the bandits had arrived, he knew that he would not be able to help his friends, he could barely stand on his own let alone fight.

The leader of the group had threatened d'Artagnan, Porthos had made a nuisance of himself and he had been the one to pay the price. When the bandit had pushed him over it was all he could do to remain conscious. The pressure of the man's boot on his cracked ribs, he did not think they were broken, was excruciating.

He did not have the strength to push himself back up to a sitting position, he watched as Porthos and Athos had their weapons taken from them and were tied at the wrists. The ropes were attached to the back of a cart that had been brought into the little clearing where they had been camped.

Two men came towards him, he steeled himself ready for the pain. They pulled him up roughly, he could not help the cry of pain. The two men laughed at him. One of them deliberately pushed him in the ribs. They used the rope to drag him toward the cart giving him a yank towards Porthos who only just managed to catch him before he stumbled to the floor.

After Porthos had steadied him and ensured he was staying upright Aramis tried to assess his injuries. His ribs were probably not as bad as Athos and Porthos thought they were, it was painful to breath, but he was able to take a deep breath occasionally, although it did take quite a bit of effort. The bruising on his back hurt. Now that his arms were held by the rope in front of him his shoulders hurt from the strain. He knew he would get stiff, as the day wore on, the pain slowly radiating out. But he was more mobile than he thought he would have been. But the bandits did not need to know that.

It would not be hard to keep up the pretence that he was in more pain than he actually was. It was likely he was going to suffer anyway, he could make it seem a bit worse. The hard part would be not letting on to his friends. They were clearly already concerned about him, and he needed them to continue to worry so that he could maintain the act.

The cart moved off, he was jerked forward by the movement. Porthos was there holding him up as best he could. Aramis wondered if he would really need to pretend for long anyway.

MMMM

When he fell, it had been genuine. The continual walking with his arms pulled in front of him was taking its toll. A particularly rough stretch of road caused him to stumble and he went down to his hands and knees. He tried to rise but when one of the gang grabbed his arm to pull him up, pain flashed though him. He fell back to the ground.

He was aware of Porthos trying to get him up, much more gently than the gang member had done. Then Porthos was yanked away by the leader. They were standing over him, he did not like being in such a vulnerable position and tried to crawl out of the way but did not succeed. He did hear the gang member call the leader Domont. Not that this information was useful.

Domont had been annoyed at Porthos and there were angry words said by the man as he stood above Aramis. Aramis could not see what was going on, he was just intent on moving out of the way. A few moments later Porthos was there again helping him up.

Once the march resumed he found himself feeling very tired. The fall had not helped him. When they had stopped again he had been grateful to sit in the shade of the cart. Porthos pushed a cup of water into his hands after he had finished the meagre bit of bread the young lad had given him. Porthos made him drink the whole cup of water. When it was suggested he try to sleep he had not complained. He knew his brothers would be keeping an eye out. He could not help them as he was anyway.

MMMM

When Porthos had roused him, he did feel a little better for the sleep. He was quick to make it seem he was in an even worse state. His plan was that they would have to allow him to be untied, then he could grab one of the bandit's swords or daggers and throw it to one of the others so that they could free themselves. He wondered if he might be able to grab a gun as well.

Porthos was keeping hold of him, Aramis let him, although he did not need it, it helped with his pretence. He gradually made his walking more laboured. He stumbled and eventually let himself fall to the floor, the cart did not stop and he was dragged a few meters. He could not help crying in pain as the action dragged at his shoulders and pulled his cracked ribs. He was aware of Porthos trying to pull him back to his feet and failing.

When the cart stopped he stayed where he was trying to catch his breath. Domont pushed his foot into his side. He cried out in pain.

A blur of movement and pain followed, he was grabbed and roughly turned over, then dragged away into the woods. He managed to focus on his comrades, this was not what he had hoped would happen. Could he turn it to his advantage? It was difficult to focus, he was in more pain than he had been. His plan to fall again had not gone quite as he expected.

The men dragged him a few meters into the woods, out of sight of the others. They dropped him on his back, he moaned as the bruises complained at the treatment. One of the men kicked him twice. As he tried to curl away from the assault he wondered if they realised they were kicking him on the other side to the already cracked ribs. He bit his tongue as he was kicked and tasted blood.

He could tell he was passing out, he tried to keep awake but could not, he sent a silent apology to his friends as he succumbed to the darkness.

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He did not think he had been unconscious for long. The light had not dimmed. He struggled into a sitting position. His hands were still bound and the rope was too tight for him to work it loose and he would not be able to untie it.

He slowly rose to his feet and although he swayed a few times found his equilibrium and walked forward, retracing the route he had been dragged. He was careful to be quiet. He knew he had not been taken far from his friends and the bandits.

He could not help but smile when he realised they had not left. He circled to the left and brought himself level with the cart, he watched his friends. They were huddled on the ground, Porthos was gazing off into the distance. It was clear they all thought he was gone for good. His act must have been convincing. They thought his injuries were worse than they really were.

He took stock of his situation. He was still bound, he could not fight, his ribs were cracked and now the other side of his torso would be sporting some bruising after he was kicked again. His back was stiff from the original assault. He was also hungry and thirsty. In reality, he was not going to be able to do much to help his friends.

As he watched them move off, all he could do, for now, was follow.

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They were moving quicker than before. But now that Aramis did not have to pretend he could move quicker and smoother as well. He had to watch where he stepped, with his arms still bound his balance was not brilliant but he kept up with the bandits. He was walking slightly behind, watching them carefully.

As the hours passed he became fatigued, he hoped they would stop soon. One of the men peeled away and slipped into the woods a few meters ahead, Aramis hid behind a tree and watched as the man relieved himself then re-joined the party. He found this action repeated a few times with the other men, he had to remain alert to the bandits slipping into the woods, he was close enough to the group that he might be spotted.

The bandits stopped a couple of hours later and he watched as his friends all but collapsed to the ground. They were fed and given water. Athos was speaking to Porthos who still looked shocked.

Aramis was very tired now, but he knew he could not sleep. He had to watch the camp, he had to watch for an opening, a chance to help his friends escape. He watched as they settled down, he noted that they slept side by side, d'Artagnan in the middle. Porthos and Athos appeared to be taking turns to keep watch. He wondered why.

As dawn broke he became aware of shouting from further into the camp. He tiredly pulled himself up, stifling a groan. His back was very painful now, his body seemed to be catching up with the level of pain he had been pretending to be in.

He circled around the camp, closer to the shouting.

He watched as Domont berated the young bandit. As Domont pulled out one of his guns and killed the young man, Aramis was shocked. He watched as Domont threatened the others, then threw the gun to one of the bandits who quickly reloaded it and passed it back.

Another cry drew his attention back to his friends. Domont walked back over. There was an exchange of words that Aramis could not hear. Domont punched Athos who doubled over in pain.

He watched horrified as two men grabbed d'Artagnan and dragged him a few meters closer pushing him to the floor and bending him forward.

Domont returned to Porthos' horse, pulling the axe from a saddlebag and returned to stand in front of d'Artagnan.

Aramis watched as Domont raised the axe high into the air.

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	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Porthos watched horrified. He was about to lose a second friend. He was about to watch d'Artagnan die. The bandit holding him was not really necessary, he was still tied to the cart, he could not reach d'Artagnan and Domont in time, even if he tried.

He and Athos were still shouting protests and cursing the men. Athos had tried to struggle free of the man holding him but had not been able to, the punch he had just taken had winded him and sapped what little energy he still had.

It had all happened so quickly, and now d'Artagnan was knelt under the axe. About to die. The young musketeer had looked terrified when he realised what was going on. He had not even struggled against Fabien when he had been roughly pulled away from the cart.

A shot rang out, Domont fell to the ground, the axe still in his hand. They all paused. The man holding Porthos loosened his grip. They looked for the source of the shot. It had come from the right of Domont's position. Porthos found it hard to believe what he saw. Aramis was standing with a gun levelled towards Domont. The gun was held awkwardly in the marksman's still bound hands. For a second he looked across to Porthos, a faint smile played across his face. Then he crumpled to the floor, as if he were a puppet whose strings had been cut. He was quite still.

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The shot that killed Domont also pulled d'Artagnan out of his slow-moving world. Up to that point, since he was dragged out and forced to his knees he had felt sluggish and confused. The gun shot snapped him out of it. He pushed Fabien off him, the man was staring towards Domont's body, at the bloody mess that was his head. D'Artagnan dived toward the body and ripped the guns, Aramis' guns, from the weapons belt of the now dead gang leader.

He turned around and aimed at Fabien. He could not help a quick smile as he pulled the trigger. Aramis' guns were very well looked after, he had every confidence the shot would be true. Fabien had time to look surprised. The expression stuck on his face as he fell forward, very dead.

The other bandit that had hauled d'Artagnan to his place of execution took a step towards him, trying to pull a gun from his own belt. He did not get the opportunity, as d'Artagnan fired the other gun he had taken from Domont. Both weapons now spent d'Artagnan looked towards his friends.

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Athos pulled away from the man holding him, he swung his bound hands towards the man's face, knocking him down. Fighting, using dirty tactics was not something he would usually do, but in this instance, kicking the man in the head did not bother him in the slightest. The man was unconscious and likely to remain so for some time.

Porthos had managed to grab his man around the neck and rendered him unconscious by throttling him. The man fell to the floor. Porthos looked across to where Aramis lay, Athos saw the worry immediately cross his face. He turned and saw Stephane walking, purposefully, his sword drawn, towards Aramis. But Aramis, who had regained consciousness, was clearly in no state to fight, he was trying to move away from the advancing man. All Aramis could manage was an ineffectual crawl that was made harder by his injuries and bound wrists. Stephane was making a last-ditch attempt to take out one of their little band and he had picked on the one man who could not properly defend himself. Stephane was clearly a coward.

Athos knew that neither he nor Porthos could help Aramis, they were still tied to the cart with limited movement, only d'Artagnan was in a state to do so, but there was no time. He glanced around. The man he had rendered unconscious was wearing a gun. He quickly grabbed it and as he called d'Artagnan's name he threw the gun towards him.

D'Artagnan who had been watching his friends take out their guards had not noticed Stephane approaching Aramis. It was only the fact that Athos was staring in that direction that drew his attention to the danger Aramis was in. When Athos called to him and threw the gun he knew what to do. He grabbed the gun, raised it, aimed and fired. Stephane fell forward landing on top of Aramis who had not succeeded in moving very far. The marksman cried out in pain as the body landed on him.

Athos watched as d'Artagnan rushed over and pushed the limp body off his friend.

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Porthos used a knife, taken from the weapon belt of the man he had throttled to cut the rope from around Athos wrists. Athos returned the favour. Once free he made his way towards Aramis. D'Artagnan had helped the marksman to sit up. He did not look well, but he looked better than Porthos had expect him to. Porthos had been convinced the man was dead.

Aramis smiled at him as Porthos knelt. Porthos was a little surprised when Aramis spoke.

'Sorry,' he said, 'I deceived you.'

Porthos did not reply, merely looked at his friend.

'I made out it was worse than it really was…my injuries,' continued Aramis by way of explanation.

Porthos continued to look at Aramis for several seconds before grabbing him in a bear hug. It was only the hiss of pain from Aramis that made him stop, he pushed Aramis away from him and inwardly cursed as he realised he had just caused his friend pain.

Aramis smiled at him again, 'it's OK,' he said simply.

'Why did you collapse, just now?'

'I've been awake since they left me, and I haven't eaten…and they kicked me again…and I really do hurt now.'

It was Porthos' turn to smile. He rested his hand on his friend's shoulder. Aramis was pale and kept blinking, Porthos knew he was in danger of passing out again.

'Let's get you over there, it's shaded, and you can lean on that tree,' suggested d'Artagnan.

They moved the marksman to the more comfortable spot and untied his hands. Porthos found some water and what remained of the bread. He left it by Aramis, but his friend had, indeed, passed out again. They had propped him up against the tree, although leaning on his bruised back hurt the marksman had not wanted to lie down, as that made it difficult for him to breath.

Porthos helped d'Artagnan to move the bodies. They firmly restrained the two men that were still alive, they were tied to the back of the cart, in the same manner that the musketeers had been. Athos ensured the horses were watered and fed, then built a fire near Aramis. They gathered, a short time later, around the fire.

'Are you OK?' asked Athos.

D'Artagnan looked up, he had been poking a stick into the fire, his face impassive. He nodded.

'I don't think it's really sunk in yet…what nearly happened. When they grabbed me, I don't know why I didn't fight them. I just sort of…froze.'

Porthos put his arm around the young man in a friendly gesture.

'Your reaction was quite normal,' said Aramis who had watched the exchange, 'I've seen it in people on the battlefield.'

Athos moved across to the marksman and offered him a cup of water, which was gratefully received.

'Where did you come from, back there. We all thought you were dead, or dying when they left you in the woods,' asked d'Artagnan.

Aramis spent a few minutes relating what had happened to him. Including how he had seen the young bandit drop his gun when he was taking a comfort break in the woods. A most fortuitous mistake.

'When Domont was going to kill you,' said Aramis, 'I knew I had to act, but I only had one chance…if I had missed him…'

Porthos watched as d'Artagnan reached over and grabbed Aramis by the shoulder. Despite the pain it caused the man, he was obviously glad of the gesture.

'You never miss,' said d'Artagnan with a grateful smile.

The End.

Authors note: I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for all the great reviews.


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